Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Her Master's Choice by Karen Mercury

This title is offered at a 15% discount. Offer ends midnight CST, December 2nd.
[Siren Everlasting Classic: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, public exhibition, spanking, paddling, flogging, forced-seduction role play, sex toys, HEA]
When Shannon Bloomfield hears a rumor that an influential, anonymous food critic is visiting her restaurant, she has no idea it’s the exotic bad-boy Tate Gooding, who holds her fate in his culinary hands. Tate, burned out on the club circuit life and traveling around the U.S. for his guidebook company, wants a deeper, more meaningful relationship with the three-star chef.
Tate instructs Shannon in a thrilling new realm of private—and public—play, pushing her limits with every new scene.  Shannon discovers that her inner “Force-Me Queen” is an expert tease, skilled at keeping Tate on the edge.
But a creepy stalker has photos and threatens to expose Tate’s cover and their back alley scenes. Tracking down the culprit brings the couple closer than ever in their power plays, and Shannon learns that breaking out of her comfort zone is an arousing adventure when it’s Her Master’s Choice.

And then his eyes met hers.
The guitarist’s smoky eyes held a glimmer of acknowledgment, as though they had known each other before. Shannon tried to only briefly engage diners’ glances because she didn’t want to get drawn into long, trivial conversations with them.
This time it was different. She met and held the musician’s warm, sly look. His eyes looked as though lined with kohl, his upper lip under the sparse Latin lover’s moustache full and bowed like a cherub’s. Women would kill for cheekbones like his, and he had a thoughtful, poetic aura as he slightly tilted his head and regarded her.
She had no choice. She had to go to his table and acknowledge that he’d engaged her.
Luckily he was sitting one table down from the commander in chief, who really seemed to be getting off on that hand-cut pasta. The President hadn’t even touched his water glass, he was so intent on rolling the slimy mushrooms around in his mouth. Good.
“Hi,” Shannon said experimentally. It wouldn’t hurt if Reagan saw her chatting it up with diners. In addition to handing out stars for excellence, Hamsun rated each restaurant in slightly lesser categories such as ambience and service. These were notated as one to four fourches, or forks, printed in bold pink if it was exceptional. Shannon had always had a bold pink fork for service. Ambience was never bolded, probably due to her sloppy chalkboard. “How is your meal? I see you selected a glass of Summerhawk cab. That’s my personal favorite, too.” It was. It really was.
He didn’t seem concerned about his meal or his wine. “Are you Shannon Bloomfield?” His voice was deeply resonant, and it occurred to Shannon he could be an actor, too. Actors dressed flamboyantly hip like that sometimes.
“Yes. I am.”
He grinned crookedly. “I was just wondering if I should order the flan.”
Shit! He was referring to that whole Hamsun debacle a year ago—and within earshot of the new rater! Instinctively, Shannon tried to stand between him and the Teflon President, who luckily didn’t seem to have heard. “Oh, that! I personally think we were just having an off day. Every other reviewer gave our flan top rating. We don’t even serve it anymore.”
“But you should keep serving it, to prove that rater wrong.”
Shannon changed the subject. “I see you’re having the grilled squid. That’s our special tonight—we change our menu weekly.” She wanted to make sure Reagan heard that, but he appeared to have his mouth and concentration buried in the lamb with roasted garlic sauce.
The musician disregarded her promotional skills. “Are you married, Shannon?”
What the fuck? What the hell does that have to do with anything? I like self-confident, but this guy is a bit too arrogant for his own good! However, she had to be gracious within earshot of the alleged rater. “No, I’m not. This restaurant is my life. I’d never have time to get married. You know, to some of us who are dedicated to pairing opposing flavors and using ingredients at their absolute peak—”
“You should.” The musician regarded her levelly, utterly fearless and confident. “You’re a stunning woman, but your inner glow would burst forth more freely if you just let loose and allowed yourself to get properly fucked once in awhile.”
Shannon was struck mute. The young couple at the next table were, too. They both swiveled their heads, their eyes widening in shock. And, naturally, The Gipper had heard the entire thing, too. Lamb actually fell from his mouth onto his plate, tumbling along with a few peas. His Superman hair gleamed in the romantic candlelight.
Once Shannon determined the musician had actually said what she thought he had, she had to respond politely. Maybe he was from a rival restaurant and wanted to ruin her second chance at regaining her star. She moved her mouth, hoping something halfway mannerly would come out. “Uh. Yes. That probably never hurts anything, now, does it? However, I do date someone. He’s very supportive of my free-form plating and my unique—ah, here he is now.”
Shannon for once bought a break when this guy she’d dated about three times breezed through the doorway. She hadn’t seen Tom Bukowski’s name on the reservation list, yet here he was, happily striding toward her with open arms. He was a chef at another no-starred Berkeley restaurant and he really did nothing for her. She was going to tell Tom she was too busy to date just because they had no chemistry. Tom was definitely “bro zoned.” Men were never interested in being only friends, but he sure did come in handy right now.
The musician looked at Tom with disgust, his upper lip trembling. “I said properly fucked, Shannon.”
Oh my God. Will nothing shut this man up?
The rain had now let off so Tate could toss her Winnie-the-Pooh umbrella to the ground, giving the spectators on their decks a better view. When he dipped and bent his knees, his free hand had slid around the back of her ass. The dress was so tight she could practically feel each fingerprint as he gathered a handful of the slippery rayon fabric. Cold air swirled around her naked butt cheeks, and when the raised ridges of one fingerprint barely tickled her clitoris like a breath of air, she sucked in air and jumped.
“But I know nothing about you,” she whispered. Over Tate’s shoulder she could see two of the three friends on the deck rubbing their crotches lewdly. Pretending she hadn’t seen, she assisted Tate by unzipping her dress nearly to her navel. Her lacey push-up bra amply displayed her average-sized globes, and as she’d hoped, the two eager men on the deck started taking their own dicks out. It made her feel lascivious and obscene, complete strangers getting off on her sex. “I don’t even know where you live, and you probably know where I live.”
“I do not,” Tate murmured. Stalking wasn’t his style. “And you’ll find out where I live the moment you give me a ride home today. Now listen. That couple, that man and woman watching us from their deck. What are they doing?” Tate sucked on her throat some more—he’d probably leave an embarrassing, childish hickey, and Shannon didn’t care. He spread butterfly kisses on the upraised globes of her tits as though trying to distract her while two fingertips now nudged between the swollen lips of her pussy.
Ah!” she gasped when he found the exact right spot, the money spot on her clit where rubbing and twiddling was always the most effective, when Shannon didn’t have a detachable shower head to toy with. “The couple?” Shannon was shocked to see how brazen the couple was getting. There was probably a direct sight line to at least some parts of the highway, where people stuck in traffic could get a good eyeful of that notorious apartment building.
Tate diddled her clit, making her gasp again. “Yes. Is watching us making them hot?”
“Oh, yesss…The man is behind her, and he’s taken her tits out of her bra and is playing with them.”
“Just playing? Be more descriptive, my pet.”
“He’s twiddling her nipples between his fingers. Her tits are bouncy and round, much bigger than mine. He’s leaning her over the balcony rail as though about to fuck her from behind.”
“Ah, dog-style, one of my favorites.” Tate approved of the man’s choice, and he bent his knees deeper to take a suck of Shannon’s teat now too. Ecstasy shot straight down her abdomen from her nipple to her clit, the blissful feelings mingling right there at her center of passion. “What are those horny men doing? Have they stripped off their pants yet?”
To her surprise, one of them actually had. He had even stepped up on a chair or a box or something because his prick was practically eye-level with one of his buddies. A shudder gripped Shannon’s poor wracked body as she wished they were three gay men. It couldn’t hurt her impending orgasm to watch that baby-faced guy suck off his buddy. But they were just jacking themselves, and it stroked Shannon’s ego as well as her libido to know they were getting off over her. “Yes, one guy’s up on a chair and he’s furiously jacking himself off.”
“Good. I want as many people as possible to find pleasure in my princess. And I think they’ll find more pleasure”—in one fluid movement, with his left hand Tate whipped the trench coat belt from its loops and had twined it around one of her wrists—”in watching a bound woman come to a forced orgasm.”
Shannon smiled when she recalled his Rumpus Room attendance. She trusted him, so there was no issue about refusing, but it was sort of fun to pretend to struggle. “Oh, no,” she said in a girlish voice. “Please, Mr. Gooding. Please don’t tie me up. How will I get away from you if I’m helpless?”
Shannon didn’t know until much later that she was instinctively enacting “rebel play,” a scene where the bottom pretends to resist the top. They would revisit that scene often. Tate didn’t miss one beat with his fingertips against her bulging clit as he expertly bound her wrists using only one hand. The knot wasn’t the tightest, but she couldn’t escape without a lot of struggle. And every time she struggled, her tits bounced nicely. “Isn’t helpless the point, young missy? I want you helpless. I want you spread-eagled with wrists and ankles bound, your mouth gagged so you can’t protest.”
“Oh, Lord, no!” The innocent little girl that Shannon had suddenly become didn’t want her most intimate parts displayed to strangers, especially since that guy on the chair looked on the verge of—”Oh, God! That disgusting boy up there is ejaculating over the side of the deck! His friend is slapping him on the ass congratulating him. It’s absolutely disgusting.” So disgusting, in fact, that Shannon wriggled her hips even faster to encourage Tate to speed up his twiddling against her clit.
“And the couple? Has the husband mounted her yet?”
“Yes, it seems like he has. His hips are pumping into her. He’s squeezing her bare tits and she has a blissful look on her face. Oh, Mr. Gooding, this is too, too shameful! How dare you expose my breasts to strangers?”
Tate held the tip of his nose to hers. “It gives them pleasure, and it gives me pleasure. And I think it gives you pleasure too, you little minx.” And he dove down to suckle on her nipple again.

The Good Switch, December 2013
Her Master's Choice, November 2013
Three For All, October 2013
The Subject Was Rose, August 2013

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Mon Frere, Plus One by Michael Mandrake

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Blurb: Ryland and Ryder Durand’s loving relationship is in danger of being severed.

Ryland, the mild mannered twin, has feelings for a human by the name of Dale Mooney, an unemployed singer who needs to start making money to support his terminally ill mother. Though Ryder is upset about Ryland’s thoughts to have a third, he plays along in hopes the human won’t want to be involved with the two vamps, leaving them alone as he wants.

However, Ryland’s fierce desire for Wade stands in the way of Ryder’s plan, driving both into fits of rage that ends up in drag out fights. Not to mention, another vampire lurks in the shadows to catch them off guard and kill them for his own revenge. These issues threaten to drive the twins apart and break the commitment they’ve consummated in such a short period of time. Can their love survive the tension of another lover and a demon stalking them?


“Ryland? Ry? Hey, bro!” Ryder shook Ryland, waking him from his vision of the time before Monsieur Gren Dumont took them in. They were only ten at the time, and he nurtured them until they were older. Ryland shed a tear and wiped it away quickly before his brother noticed his emotion.
“Ry?” Ryder planted a small kiss on his cheek.
“Yes, I… I do recall all the hard times before Gren and with him. Still, it doesn’t mean I didn’t care for him, Ryder.” Ryland shook off Ryder’s affections and strolled in the other direction. “My lack of love for Gren had nothing to do with his death.”
“Fine, fine, brother. I hate when we argue, okay? It was just a theory.” Ryder’s brows furrowed, and he inched closer to Ryland. “I hate when you get in these moods, you know? You get so angry with me, almost uncontrollable at times.”
Ryland sniffed and shifted his weight onto his right foot. He hated having disagreements too, but he still couldn’t get over his brother’s statement. “You’re accusing me of being the reason Gren died, all right? How the hell am I supposed to react, Ryder?”
Ryder massaged Ryland’s shoulders, attempting to make him relax. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Listen, I love you, bro, more than anything. I don’t wanna cause any rifts between us. We just started this beautiful relationship, and I wanna keep it as stress free as possible.”
“Then stop saying I had something to do with Gren’s death!” Ryland exhaled and dropped his head. Ryder put him in a horrible mood, so bad, he wished to go out and stalk a human to take out his aggressions. Another trait of Ryder’s he’d picked up since they began their relations. His mild-mannered self was leaving with each passing day.
“Okay, okay, easy, boy.” Ryder chuckled and pressed his mouth against Ryder’s cheek. “You’re so temperamental. Why not take that all out on me in bed?” He closed the space between them, rubbing his crotch against Ryland’s buttocks.
“Mhmmph.” Ryland lowered his lids, feeling his arousal heightening by the minute. What he wouldn’t give to be inside of his brother, pounding away mercilessly on his ass. “Yes, why don’t I then as long as you promise to be good.” Ryland spun on his heel, wrapped his arms around his brother’s waist, and yanked him close. Without saying another word, he buried his nose in the crook of Ryder’s neck, smelling his natural musk along with the human he’d killed this morning for them to feed on. “Mon frèreoui, fragrance of type o; an equally intoxicating scent.”
“Yes it is, and he was pretty damn delectable; a child of the night who only wanted to party with me. He didn’t know I was already taken.” Ryder stroked the back of Ryland’s head, cradling Ryland close to his chest.
“Did you mention that to him?” Ryland looked up, wondering what the answer would be. Although they’d been a couple almost a month now, he knew his brother to still be a huge flirt.
“I told him I was hopelessly in love then made the initial bite. He didn’t seem to care a whole lot.” Ryder held Ryland’s cheeks, pressing their lips together.
“So he didn’t like the fact you were committed or the bite you were giving him?” Ryland laughed, his mood already changing.  His brother was such a card. Out of all the things he’d picked up during their copulation, humor would most likely never be one of them.
“I don’t think he cared for either one, bro. He was a sour sport. I told him I could take him higher just for the night, and he wanted to fall in love with me.” Ryder traced a line from Ryland’s lips to his Adam’s apple, making a spot there in which to feed. “I can only be in love with one person, Ryland. Only you; no one else.”
“I…” Ryland swallowed hard. His erection strained against his zipper. Ryland had been suppressing his thoughts about the human for a few days now, but every time he and Ryder made love, he’d see Dale’s face in his dreams. He was beginning to think he could actually love someone else other than his brother, but he couldn’t allow Ryder to know. “And I feel the same, my love. You are my one and only, true mon frère.”
“Of course I am. Now perhaps we should go to bed then, right, so I can slip my cock into that tight pucker, hmm? We’ll make each other forget the argument and my bad dreams. Sex is always a stress reliever.”
Ryland nodded and lightly stroked the side of his lover’s face. “Indeed, but I would like to be the one in charge tonight.” He knew if he allowed Ryder to take him, he’d be prone to let him into his thoughts. Ryder just couldn’t find out about Ryland’s fondness for Dale. Not now, not when they were still doing so well in their relationship. Besides, they needed to keep the exchanges of blood low, so he wouldn’t be lurking in the night, and Ryder wouldn’t be overly scared.  As long as they kept the basics of their attitudes and tendencies intact, crises would be avoided.
“Ry, what are you thinking about?” Ryder grabbed him roughly, suffocating Ryland with his embrace. In moments, he stopped and stared at him, starry eyed. The yellow speckles shone in his pupils. “Ryland?”
Ryland’s cock strained against the zipper, and he drew in air, wanting to be inside his loving sibling for the duration of the evening. “Yes, my dear brother, I hear you now, let us retire to our quarters. I have much I’d like to do to you tonight.”


Michael Mandrake

The Literary Triad - http://www.thelitriad.com/#!
Michael Mandrake - http://tabooindeed.blogspot.com
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Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Marked Mates by Erin M. Leaf

When Sparrow Martin dreams about President Morgan Wilde, she thinks she's going crazy. Ordinary people like her don't bond with the President, right? But when she dreams about a second man along with Morgan, she knows she needs to find her bond-mates or risk losing her mind.
Morgan knows he's bonding, but he has no idea what to do about it. One of the people he's dreaming about is a man whose face he can't even see. As President, his responsibility is to his country, not his own desires. Of course, when Sparrow shows up during a White House tour, he discovers dreams can't be denied.
Justin Boyd is working on a secret project and he doesn't have time to figure out what's wrong with him. He's been sleeping badly for months, but he doesn't have any of the signs of bonding: no wrist tattoos, no headaches. So why do two people haunt his dreams, night after night?

Story Excerpt:
Sparrow rubbed her temples tiredly. She thought coming here would make her feel better, not worse. She’d be able to visit, gawk a little like every other tourist, and then, voila! She’d be over her ridiculous crush on Morgan Wilde.
Because there is no way, no freaking way, I’m bonding with the president of the United States. That’s just impossible, right? she told herself, stomach churning. Who would believe her, even if it were true? Certainly not the man in her dreams. Morgan Wilde didn’t even know she existed.
She thought back to last night. In the dream, Morgan’s face had been so familiar to her, she wasn’t even surprised anymore to find him haunting her so often. They were always in a car, driving somewhere in the dark. In every dream, he’d kiss her, and she’d feel as though her entire body was on fire. Months of these stupid dreams had made her dread going to sleep, not sure if he would appear again. Not sure if she wanted him to appear. And then, last night, another man comes into the dream like so much smoke—thick and disturbing and impossible to ignore. What does that mean? She had no idea who he was. That she was here, in the White House, in pursuit of a dream was insanity enough without adding a second man into the equation.
“Sparrow!” Mary hissed suddenly.
Sparrow jerked her head up. Mary’s face had gone white. She looked around, but didn’t see anything wrong. The other tourists were milling around, waiting to be admitted into the main part of the building.
“Your wrists,” Mary said, crowding close. “Look.” She grabbed Sparrow’s right arm and turned her hand over.
Sparrow’s heart gave a sick, hard thump. The faintest outline of a tattoo was delicately etched on her skin. She couldn’t quite make it out yet, but there were definitely three circles. They looked like bruises. She snatched her hand away from Mary. “It’s nothing.” It had to be nothing. Otherwise, all those nights…no, she wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t bonding.
Mary narrowed her eyes. “Has this happened before?”
Sparrow shook her head. “I probably just banged it against the sink or something.”
Without warning, Mary seized her other wrist and held it up.
Sparrow froze. Three circles. Faintly outlined on her skin, same as her other wrist. She sucked in a harsh breath and clenched her fist. Impossible. “What’s happening to me?”
Mary grabbed her arm and hustled her to the corner, near the windows. There were still people all around, but at least they had a little more privacy here.
“You need to find your mate.” Mary grasped Sparrow’s hands and lightly touched a thumb to one of the circles. “Or mates. You need to, or you’re going to get very sick, from what I’ve read.”
Sparrow shook her head. “Mates? That’s insane.” She couldn’t think about this here. She couldn’t think about it at all without wanting to run away.
Mary squeezed her fingers tighter, making Sparrow wince. “Maybe. But you told me you dreamed about two men last night. Two.”
Sparrow pulled away and folded her arms around her waist so that her wrists were hidden. She really didn’t feel well. “What do you think I’m doing here, Mary?”
Her friend stared at her. “Holy fucking shit.”
Sparrow snorted. “Yeah. Exactly.” She thunked her head on the glass. It only made her headache worse. At this point, she felt like she was seeing everything through a filter of white noise. All the low voices around her were just static. God. She rubbed her forehead, trying to will the ache away. She hoped she wasn’t about to faint. Or throw up. That would be mortifying.
“What are we going to do?” Mary asked. She stepped away and started to pace. “It’s not like you can just waltz right in—”
“Excuse me,” a young man interrupted Mary’s low-voiced murmur. “Could you both please come with me?”
Sparrow straightened up. The man wore the standard Secret Service uniform that all the guides in the White House sported. She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but no one else was paying any attention to them.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, swallowing against the rising nausea. If she didn’t get a chance to sit down soon, she was pretty sure she was going to be very, very sick right on the very shiny floor.
“There’s no problem, ma’am. I’ve just been asked to escort you to a private area,” he said. “If you would come with me?” He stepped back and held out his arm.
Sparrow glanced at Mary, who shrugged, then lifted an eyebrow as if to say: isn’t this what you wanted?
“Okay,” Sparrow said. “Lead the way.”
The young man smiled politely and led them down the hall to a door hidden behind a tall plant. None of the other tourists paid them any attention. Sparrow frowned. How had she not noticed that door before? It wasn’t exactly hidden, but it wasn’t obvious, either.
“Where are we going?” she asked, following him.
“This way,” the man said, opening the door into a private garden courtyard that Sparrow had no idea even existed.
This isn’t on any of the public floor plans. She stumbled, still fighting her monstrous headache, but caught herself before she fell. The smell of flowers wafted across her face.
“Sparrow? Are you okay?” Mary asked, putting a hand on her arm.
Sparrow tensed. Her friend’s hand actually hurt. She shrugged it off, trying not to show how completely fucking freaked out she was.
What’s wrong with me? Is this what bonding feels like? If so, it sucks. She’d suspected she was bonding for a long time now, at least on some level, but she hadn’t expected to feel this wretched. And she still refused to believe that Morgan Wilde, president, was her bond mate. Or one of them, she thought very privately to herself.
Adult Excerpt:
Morgan ripped open his shirt, buttons flying. Sparrow reached out, then forced her hand back down. If she touched him now it would be all over, and she wanted Justin, too. She didn’t want to make love without him again. Now that they’d figured out why their bonding was so screwed up, she didn’t want to take any chances.
“Hurry,” she said, instead of touching him.
Morgan fumbled with his pants. His erection sprang out and Sparrow trembled. His cock was thick and dusky and perfect. She hadn’t had time before to really look at him before. They’d screwed on the table, still mostly clothed, because the bonding heat demanded it from them. She wanted more. His well-muscled chest looked like something out of a magazine. His hair was mussed, but she didn’t care.
He shoved his pants down. When he straightened up, she stepped back. She could hear the water in the shower shut off. Morgan’s blue eyes gleamed and then Justin stepped out of the bathroom, naked and wet.
Morgan swallowed hard. Sparrow looked at their bond-mate, admiring the toned perfection of his body. Her eyes landed on his erection. He was just as aroused as Morgan. His cock arched up against his abdomen, wet at the tip. When he reached down and palmed himself, she groaned.
“Fuck,” Morgan whispered. “I guess labels like straight or bi don’t really matter once you’re bonding.”
Justin grinned. “I was always bi, I just kept it to myself.”
Morgan sighed. “Same here. It doesn’t matter anymore. If I don’t touch you in the next ten seconds, I think I’m going to lose my damn mind.”
Sparrow agreed. “Yeah, what he said.”
“I’m not going to last,” Justin said in a strained tone of voice.
“Get on the bed,” Morgan said.
Sparrow didn’t know if he was talking to her or Justin, but she obeyed anyway. She backed toward the bed until her knees bumped the mattress. Justin came closer, hand still on his erection.
“Suck him,” Morgan commanded.
Sparrow’s entire body went white-hot. There was something so ridiculously sexy listening to Morgan giving orders. The president just told me to suck a man’s cock, she thought, burning up. She glanced up at him to find him also holding his erection. The shaft pushed out from between his fingers and she realized he was squeezing to hold off his climax. God, he’s hot. She sunk fingers into her pussy, unable to stop herself. She touched her clit, arching her back as sparks of pleasure shot through her.
“Fuck,” Justin said, watching her.
“Come closer,” Morgan said to Justin.
Their bond-mate nodded and moved between her legs. She licked her lips and leaned in. Justin aimed his prick at her mouth and she opened up.
We’ve never even kissed, she thought vaguely. It didn’t matter. He fed his erection into her mouth and she moaned as the warmth of him penetrated. He tasted good, sweet and musky, and he smelled like vanilla.
“God,” Morgan murmured.
Justin gasped as she used her tongue on him, then he eased out. Morgan took his place, carefully laying the tip of his cock on her lips. She licked him and he shuddered.
“So fucking hot,” Justin said, moving close again. His cock bumped Morgan’s and both men groaned. Justin waited until Morgan slid out of her mouth, and then he slid in. She sucked him, enjoying his pleasure. The bond was flaring inside the three of them, so that each one felt the others’ pleasure. When Sparrow licked her men, she felt it in her cunt, hot and decadent.
I’m going to explode. She reached up to hold both men in her hands. She began alternating between the two cocks, holding them close so that all she had to do was move her head a little. She sucked and licked until Justin started trembling so hard she was afraid she would catch him on her teeth if he had to stay upright much longer.
“Fuck me,” Sparrow said, urging him onto the bed.
The men looked at her, then at each other. The next thing she knew, Morgan was rummaging in the nightstand and Justin was pushing her up the bed. He rolled onto his back and hauled her on top.
“We’ll take it slow,” he said, kissing her.
She laughed into his mouth as his words penetrated her lust-hazed mind. “I don’t think slow is really an option.” Behind them, she heard the rip of plastic. A condom? But I told him about my implant, she thought, remembering their earlier bout of sex on the table, but then Justin ran his hands down her back and she forgot her confusion.
“Too bad,” he murmured against her lips, hands still stroking her spine. “I like it slow.”
“I’m in the mood for fast,” she said, smiling. She sank her hands into his messy hair, leaning her weight on her elbows.
He kissed her—probably to shut me up—and then she gasped as Morgan slid in behind them. His cock slotted up between her ass cheeks, hot and wet.
“God,” she said, gasping and arching away from Justin’s mouth. Justin grabbed her head and forced her back down, kissing along her jaw while Morgan rubbed his dick against her asshole.
OhThat’s what they meant about taking it slow. And why he needed a condom. She felt stupid and blurry, just now understanding that they meant to fuck her at the same time.

Author Details: 
Erin M. Leaf is a romance novel devotee, the steamier the better, with a specialty in edgy erotic tension. She also writes romance as Marie E. Blossom.
Twitter: @erinmleaf


Aberdeen Pack 4

Available Now

Ares knew he had met the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with when Simon Fiske joined the Aberdeen Pack. There’s just one problem. Everyone believes that Simon is simple and slow, not able to make decisions on his own.
When Simon and his brother Adam were banished from their pack, he had no idea that it would lead to him meeting the most beautiful man he had ever seen. After Ares claims him, life for Simon just gets more complicated. Adam refuses to talk to him, his ex-lover is back demanding that he return to his former pack, and Simon has his hands full keeping other pack members safe when they are attacked. 
Being mated should have been the most wonderful thing that ever happened to Simon and Ares but it seemed to just bring on more battles than they could fight.
“He’s beautiful.”
“No, Simon,” a slightly thicker, rougher version of his own voice hissed into his ear. “Not again. You thought Alpha Kohl’s son was beautiful, too, and look where that got us.”
Simon Fiske dropped his eyes from the gorgeous man standing on the porch next to their new alpha and stared down at the ground as he kicked at the dirt with the tip of his boot. The last time seriously wasn’t his fault. The alpha’s son had been cute.
He’d also been a jerk.
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Simon mumbled under his breath. “I was just saying that I thought he was pretty.”
“Stay away from him, Simon.”
“But, Adam,” Simon protested, his head popping up to look at his brother. “Alpha Khenti said he’s the head of the enforcers.”
Adam’s dark-green eyes narrowed in warning. “And that means there is absolutely no reason for you to be around him.”
Simon’s shoulders slumped not just because his brother was ordering him away from the beautiful head enforcer but because Adam didn’t think there would be any reason for Simon to even be around the man.
He was slow, not stupid. He could still fight. It didn’t take a genius to fight and defend his pack. It took muscle, strength, a willingness to give his life for a cause greater than him. Simon wasn’t the strongest wolf in the pack, but he wasn’t ready to roll over and show his belly to everyone either.
“I mean it, Simon,” Adam snapped, reaching over to grip Simon’s chin between his fingers. Simon hated it when Adam did that. Big brother or not, Adam didn’t need to treat him like a child. He got enough of that from everyone else. “We’ve barely been here more than a couple of weeks. Don’t fuck this up for us.”
Simon felt his eyes water as he shoved his fisted hands into his pockets and dropped his eyes from Adam’s angry gaze. “Okay, Adam,” he said in a voice that was filled with so much resignation that he winced. He hated when he sounded so defeated, but sometimes it was easier to give in to Adam than to fight with him.
Just as soon as Adam grunted and turned back to listen to what the alpha was saying to the new pack members, Simon glanced up at the gorgeous enforcer again through the fall of his bangs. Something tight unfurled inside him at the sight of the tall man.
Damn, he really was hot. He was a dark figure of a man, big and powerful. Simon thought he probably could have been an alpha if he wanted to be. But the air of danger that seemed to hover around him gave credence to his role as an elite enforcer, his presence on the porch as commanding as the alpha and beta of Aberdeen Pack.
The large man towered over most of the other men on the platform by several inches. The thick muscles rippling under his tight white shirt quickened Simon’s pulse and made his cock throb in his pants. The enforcer had long, sturdy legs encased in a tight black material, emphasizing the thickness of his thighs. His wide shoulders seemed to stretch endlessly, pulling at the seams of his white shirt.
Simon inhaled slowly, trying to beat back his arousal, not wanting anyone to smell it. Scent was very powerful among wolf-shifters.
Anyone standing close to him—including his brother—would be able to smell the subtle change in his scent.
Please don’t let me embarrass myself.
Simon just couldn’t seem to help it. Every time he caught a glimpse of the handsome enforcer, his body just reacted, going from cold to hot in the blink of an eye. It was like it happened whether he wanted it to or not.
When the new alpha finished talking, he introduced everyone. Simon finally heard the name of his dream man for the very first time—Ares. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful man. Simon knew his Greek mythology. Ares was named after the God of war, violence, and bloodshed. It suited the enforcer. In his line of work, he probably saw a lot of violence and carnage.
Simon stepped back behind the other new pack members when Alpha Khenti and Ares, along with the rest of the Aberdeen Pack inner circle, came down off the porch of the alpha house and started to move throughout the throng of people.
Simon knew he would have to meet with Alpha Khenti at some point, and probably Ares as well. He just didn’t want to do it in a crowd of people. He knew if the enforcer got too close, there would be no hiding his arousal from Ares or anyone else.
“Simon!” Adam’s jaw ticked as he glanced over his shoulder at him. “What are you doing?”
Simon searched his brain for a good answer that Adam would accept. His heart started beating with excitement when he spotted the gunmetal-black barbeque cookers and wooden tables piled high with food.
“I’m hungry,” he said quickly as he edged back even further. “I want to get something to eat.”
“You will wait here until our new alpha greets you.”
Simon grimaced as he looked through the people milling about and spotted Alpha Khenti moving slowly toward him and Adam.
Simon felt his face flush, his arousal deepening when he spotted a set of deep-bronze eyes staring back at him from just behind the alpha.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Cyborg Doms by H.C. Brown

Fane Jacobs, or 636, is a genetically and robotically enhanced human, with the ability to change his appearance at will. He is trapped on Terros 9 in 3010 with a psychopathic owner, Gryd. His duty is to entertain Gryd's guests both male and female with his skill in the dungeon.
Forbidden to show emotions, he longs for the comfort of a lover, and his dreams are filled with the image of a sweet sub.
Cyborgs are classified as machines on Terros 9, they have no rights. After his friend, Jace, is pack-raped by a group of male guests, Fane and Jace steal a starship, and travel back in time to Earth in 2040. Jace takes off for a night with the right man, while Fane explores the city.
His attention is drawn to a woman being attacked by a gang of thugs. He rushes to her aid and is shot. The woman, Dr. Tamara Bright, resembles the sub from his dreams. She discovers his integrated neural matrix and other enhancements on the Bio Scanner. Will she turn away or will she fall for the deliciously, handsome cyborg?
Terros 9. 3011 Earth Years
Fane’s gaze drifted to her full, luscious mouth, and when she swiped the tip of her pink tongue across her lips, he could almost taste her. His cock hardened. She tossed a mane of rich burgundy curls over one shoulder. One long, silky strand remained to brush against her full, tempting breasts, the twin peaks threatening to burst through her tight, white T-shirt. He reached for her to draw her soft body against him. “I’m gonna love flogging you until you come.”
“636, report for duty.” Commander 7 prodded Fane. “Gryd has just brought in a batch of new girls.” He chuckled. “Get rid of that hard on—you don’t want to waste it.”
Fane rolled off his cot. His balls ached. He pushed the now-familiar dream from his mind and interfaced with his internal computer. The Artificial Intelligence module in his brain had the ability to change him into any persona, from skin color to dress and speech. The AI was a remarkable piece of technology. Fane gave Commander 7 a bland look. Reduce sex drive. Dress me for domination.
“If you’re dreaming about sex, report to Reprogramming.” Commander 7 met Fane’s gaze. “You’re not a man, 636, you’re a machine designed to entertain Gryd. Dreams are a malfunction of your program.”
“I don’t dream, Commander.” Fane shrugged. “I am always in complete control. “How many times had he hidden is human self from this man? His ability to dream had become the single fragment left of his humanity.
Without another word, Fane brushed by him and made his way to the transport tube. Agitation rode on his shoulders. He repeated the mantra in an effort to cling to his humanity: I’m not a fucking machine. I remember everything. My name is Fane Jacobs. I’m thirty Earth Years. I do not belong on Terros 9.


Friday, November 15, 2013

Nikki's Secret by T.N. Tarrant


Nikki Marnell is a history teacher enjoying a great life: she has a job she loves, and two husbands that adore her. A young student’s obsession with her threatens to destroy everything she’s worked so hard to build from a life as a teenage runaway.

She smiled as she dusted a picture she’d taken of her husbands last summer, when they’d gone camping. Both were sleeping, Cody’s long, sun-lightened hair mixing with Ritchie’s longer, darker hair as they cuddled. Cody had been holding Ritchie close, his face buried in the back of Ritchie’s neck, as Ritchie held Cody’s hands to his chest. The peacefulness on their faces was something Nikki loved to watch. She grinned. She wondered if watching your lovers sleep was an actual fetish, since all three of them did it regularly. There were similar pictures for them all over the house, some more of Ritchie and Cody, some of her and Ritchie, and others of her and Cody.
The phone rang, making her smile, checking the time. Her husbands were eager to talk, it had only been an hour. She hurried to the phone, but paused when she saw the Caller ID. It was a local number, not either of her husbands numbers.
Pat Sloyer answered. “Hello, Nicole, how are you tonight?”
“Mrs. Marnell, Pat. We’ve discussed this before.” Nikki kept her voice calm, but a little stern, trying to make her disapproval clear, without being cruel. Briefly she wondered if that was what it would take, though. “How did you get this number?”
Pat ignored the question, asking instead, “How about you meet me for dinner? I’ll take you to a really nice place, where it can be just us two.” The boy’s voice was excited, and Nikki recognized that he was trying to be seductive. However, it just creeped her out.
“No, Pat, I will not meet you for dinner, it would be highly inappropriate. I am your history teacher, and you are one of my many students. If you need help with an assignment, then we will discuss it during class tomorrow, or you can send me an email,” Nikki paced the living room, agitated. Her students and their parents had a school email for her, as well as a cell phone number she kept for her students, but none had her private home number, nor her personal cell number. Pat was calling the house number.
“Come on Nicole, we have something more special than that. I can even pick you up from home, take you to dinner, maybe go to the park and talk for a while,” Pat voice changed to a wheedling tone, one she’d heard countless times from boys over the years. The same tone that arrogant boys used whenever they wanted something from a female, whether it was a better grade or sex, the tone and attitude behind it remained the same. That tone that said “come on, don’t be difficult, you know you want what I want and I want you to give it to me. Don’t be a cocktease.”
“No, Pat. Good night.” She hung the phone up. It immediately rang again, with the same number, but she ignored it. She called Cody on her cell phone, shaking, moving to check all the doors and windows, needing to make sure they were locked. She shut the windows she’d opened to let the nice evening breeze into the house.
“Hey good looking, what’cha got cooking?” Cody asked, a hokey, teasing lilt in his voice. She could just see the goofy grin on his face as he spoke, even though he was halfway across the country from her. Nikki couldn’t help but smile, even as shook up as she was.
“Pat Sloyer just called the house line,” Nikki answered.
“That’s it, Nikki,” Cody replied, sounding angry. “I want you to tell Vincent that Pat needs removed from your classes.”
Nikki nodded, even though he couldn’t see. She had resisted that suggestion before when Cody and Ritchie had suggested it, but now. They were right. This was no longer just a crush. “I will, this is getting more than a little creepy.”
Cody grunted, but only added, “And Ritchie wants you to call the police and make a report of it. It might not be necessary but…”
Nikki sighed. “I will, but we both know there’s nothing they can do as things are right now.”
Cody echoed her sigh. “I know baby, but at least there will be a trail outside your reports at school.”
Ritchie’s voice came on the line. “Maybe you should go stay with Mom and Dad.”
Nikki shook her head. “No, I’ve closed and locked the windows, and checked the doors and the alarm system. I’m safe here.”
Ritchie made a frustrated sound. “Stubborn woman.”
Nikki smiled. “I’m not letting a little boy scare me out of our home, Ritchie. And he hasn’t been threatening, just getting obsessed.”
“Obsession gets to threats way too often, baby, you know that,” Ritchie answered worriedly.
“I know, babe,” Nikki conceded. “That’s why Vincent, the school counselor and I are going to insist that the Sloyers get their son some help. None of us want to see that potential wasted, let alone the damage he could do to someone…”